


A Madman With a Fox

by evil_whimsey



Series: The Waterworld Stories [2]
Category: Waterworld (AU)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_whimsey/pseuds/evil_whimsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Onuma the lake pilot brings a stranger (and his companion) in from the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Onuma set eyes on Morinozuka, he rapidly concluded that the man must have a death wish. He would later maintain that this had been an entirely reasonable conclusion to reach. After all, men who value their lives do not typically walk alone out on the ice, fifteen feet from shore, off in some remote corner of the lake, hours and hours away from any possible hope of aid.

Onuma himself had been up since dawn, cruising that shore of the lake, in hope of finding a protected inlet to tie off and wait out the storm he'd spotted rolling in at sunrise. He'd been bundled up in about every layer he owned, hands wrapped in thick rags and cupped around his eyes to block the rising wind. He wore a scarf as well, wound about his head, neck, and the lower half of his face, but even so he could still feel the gusts, honed by pure winter ice to a nasty cutting edge.

He'd been skirting the edge of the lake ice, impressively thick in places, keeping a respectful distance to avoid risking his lower hold. Not much further up, there was a cove he remembered from years past, where a thin, densely overgrown peninsula served as a windbreak, and the water depth was sufficient for the draft of his boat. It was a bit of tricky work getting in, but once there he could safely ride out the coming weather, for as long as necessary.

And then he rounded a bend in the shoreline, and there spotted a tall figure in the process of slowly walking out across the ice. The sight was so completely unexpected, that for a few seconds Onuma could only gape, before hurriedly locking his rudder, and yanking out the rope knot to drop his sail. It was enough commotion to alert the man on the ice to his presence, and there was a long moment where they simply stared at one another. The stranger standing perfectly straight and still, while Onuma's boat bobbed slowly closer, moving parallel to the shore, in tiny increments.

Onuma's very first instinct was to hail the man, and demand to know whether he was out of his mind. The ice may have been solid at the shore, but there was no way it was stable or remotely safe to bear weight, as far out as this lunatic had walked. Then it occurred to him that should the idiot panic (which idiots all too often did, in his experience), the morning wasn't likely to end well for either of them.

So he decided to try for the calm and reasonable approach. He tugged his scarf down to his chin, and called, "Good morning," offering a small friendly wave. "Having any trouble, there?"

The stranger just stood there a moment, hands hanging still at his sides, rather amazingly self-possessed, considering the icy wind buffeting the long dark layers he wore. After a long searching look at Onuma, and his boat, the man shrugged.

"I was looking for someone."

Onuma's assessment of the situation instantly shifted; there'd been some accident, someone could be trapped under the ice, this man could be in shock, and he sprang to the deck railing in alarm, ready to lend aid. "Did you see where they fell? How long--? Listen, I have nets, maybe if we can reach them, I can--"

"They didn't fall in," the stranger interrupted, matter-of-factly. "I only thought I could see more of the shoreline, from here."

Onuma didn't precisely sag in relief over the railing, but it was a near thing. "You....you walked out, on that ice, for a better view?"

"I got tired of climbing through the snow," came the much-too-reasonable-sounding answer. "Thought this would be faster."

 _Right,_ thought Onuma. _Don't yell at the idiot, that won't help. You have to keep calm with crazy people, everyone knows that._

"Yeah, ah, sorry to tell you this. But you should know, the shoreline drops off pretty sharp. Where you're standing, the depth is about twice your height, probably more. And the ice really isn't as strong as you might think."

He was near enough now, to see the man's brows pull together in a mild frown, and to face the irony that one of the most striking individuals he'd ever stumbled across, should of course happen to be mad, or suicidally stupid, or both.

Because bless him, the fellow was certainly striking. Tall and well-built, short black hair making a sharp contrast to his fair, clean complexion. High cheekbones, defined jawline, and slender neck lending him an air of elegance. That, and his incongruous poise, suggested high-bred class.

He watched the man cock his frown down at the ice between his cloth-wrapped sandals. Broad shoulders shifted in a sigh, and then that dissatisfied expression was aimed back at the shore. 

"Troublesome," he decided aloud, and Onuma had to stifle a completely unhelpful snort of laughter, at the understatement.

"Say, listen," he then found himself saying, without having made any conscious decision to do so. "Suppose you head back on land. I'll keep an eye out for you here, til you make it. Then we could meet up," gesturing up the shoreline. "There's an inlet I'm heading for, not far off that-aways. Maybe I could help you search around."

In truth, he was hoping he could talk the fool into taking shelter before the storm hit. Onuma's bones and weather-sense had both been warning him since yesterday, that the storm would bring even worse cold, along with a fair dumping of snow and ice. But he reckoned there would be a few hours left to at least humor the man, with whomever or whatever it was he sought.

The man eyed him with a distinct expression of doubt going head-to-head with common sense. Doubting whether to trust the word of a stranger (an entirely reasonable caution, Onuma had to admit), along with the growing understanding that his precarious experiment was not solving his current problem.

Since it wasn't getting any less cold on his deck, and the ice where the man stood wasn't getting any safer, Onuma tried to help the man's decision-making along a bit. "It's strictly up to you, of course. But I'd honestly prefer helping you on land, rather than hauling you out of that water. I have done it before, and I can promise you it won't be pleasant for either of us."

The stranger considered this for a second or two. "Why should you care at all?"

It was Onuma's turn to shrug. "I dunno. Call it an overabundance of goodwill? This lake is my home. And I've never liked the idea of people dying in it unnecessarily. More often than not, I find I know the water better than they do; seems a waste not to put that to some good use."

The man blinked at him, with a new air of mild intrigue. "Where did you say you're headed?"

"You see that beach up there, with the three runty pines on it?" Onuma pointed. "Follow the shoreline past that, and it cuts inland after a bit. Be careful, it's a hard drop to the water. But then you'll come on what looks like a big sunken pool, in a clearing. That's the inlet. If I leave here when you're back onshore, I reckon we'll reach it about the same time."

"But what if I'm going the other direction?" The man asked.

"Well then I wish you the best of luck, with this storm front blowing in. Me, I'm going for the safe berth, to hole up and wait it out. If you've got a better shelter, then by all means you should head for it."

The man squinted off past Onuma, to the dark clouds drawing ever closer. "And what of the person I'm looking for?"

"All I've seen besides you so far, is snow, trees, and some boulders. Whomever you're looking for, either they're well further up in the woods, up the shoreline a good ways, or damned good at not being seen. Far be it from me to tell you how to conduct your affairs, but might I suggest that in the time you've got left, a two-man search wouldn't be a bad idea."

The man's frown drew in again, as he regarded Onuma, the shore, the dark-bruised cloud mass in the distance, and then lastly the ice. In a mild, musing tone, he said, "Last time I met someone who suggested I change course for my own good, they then tried to rob me with a short sword."

"That's a foul trick," Onuma offered. "Not uncommon among the road bandits, I'm afraid. Looks like you made it through okay, though."

"Hm," said the man, cutting his dark eyes to Onuma. "My point, is that they failed. Rather decisively."

Onuma caught the implicit warning (threat? He honestly wasn't sure), but he scarcely had time to wonder at it, before the man turned, and began to stride calmly across the ice, toward shore, with no more concern than if he'd been crossing a well-paved courtyard.

"Sorry," Onuma thought to call out, before the man got too far. "But does that mean I'll see you at the inlet, or not?"

"I'll consider it," the man called back over his shoulder, without slowing.

**

Against the odds, the stranger did make it back on land without incident. And Onuma then had the whole trip along the shore, and through the tricky winding neck of that inlet, to mull over the encounter. He wasn't terribly ashamed to admit his hope that--mad as a drunk hermit or not--the man would take his offer. Being moored up through nasty weather was excruciatingly dull; getting to learn about what sort of man might stroll out on treacherous ice just for a better view of shore, would make it interesting.

It wasn't like Onuma pretended to be the sanest or most cautious man alive, himself. He had been known, on occasion, to wander into a scrape he could well see coming, just to see how it would turn out. Sometimes life needed a little spice of that sort. (And yes, maybe under the deck-boards of his mind, down in in the smuggler's hold, he might be entertaining thoughts on spice of a slightly different variety. Though in his defense, he hadn't indulged in that sort of company in some while, and the stranger had been very easy on the eyes.)

Thus it was that he got a wrench of disappointment, having threaded through the inlet to the cove proper (deep and free of ice, just as he'd hoped), and tied off to the sturdiest trees near to hand, only for the place to remain stubbornly unoccupied by anyone save himself.

Well, and the fox perched on that boulder, a little ways up from the bank. A healthy young thing, watching Onuma with bright, interested eyes and perked ears. His coat was lovely reddish-amber; his feet--and Onuma noted this, because it was quite unusual--were snowy white, all the way up his legs, matching the white on his face and chest.

Onuma actually hesitated a few minutes, waiting to see whether the fox would amble off on its own; he truly didn't want to frighten it. But it appeared the creature was content to stay put, and observe him.

"Hello, and good morning to you, Honored Sir" he told the fox, with a good-natured wink. "Hope you don't mind me coming ashore here for a bit. I don't intend any fuss, just need to pick up some firewood."

The fox blinked at him as he spoke, and then cocked its head, as if to say, _Well go on with yourself, then._  
Briefly, the creature's expressiveness put Onuma in mind of the foxes of legend and superstition. He wondered, if this was how any of those encounters might have started out. 

Well regardless, he still needed firewood. So he ducked into the cabin for a carrying bundle, and then carefully stepped from the deck to the most solid-looking patch of bank, grabbing hold of a nearby sapling to steady himself. As always, his legs expected the earth to gently pitch beneath him, and were disconcerted when it didn't, so he swayed a little where he stood, and gave a polite nod to the fox.

Curiously, the creature chose that moment to leap lightly off the boulder, and trot over to Onuma, right up to his feet, sitting back on its haunches to peer up at him. Having never encountered a wild forest animal quite so bold, Onuma found himself unwilling to move a muscle, lest he startle it before he could get a good look--the closest he'd ever managed--of a live fox.

He would swear on his life, that it was studying him back. And then, as perfectly absurd as it might sound, he would further swear that it _grinned_. Right before casting a sharp, alert glance across the clearing, where lo and behold, the madman from earlier had just silently emerged from the snow-laden pines, wearing a look of almost comic exasperation.

The man actually sounded plaintive. "This is where you wandered off to? I thought we agreed, we were going to the cave."

And yes, Onuma decided. The stranger was definitely talking to the fox. He wasn't just imagining it. But surely, surely he had to be imagining the way the fox shot him a quick sidelong wink, before gazing back at the other man with perfect, unruffled innocence.

Or maybe not. "Yes, I saw that," said the madman, faintly scolding. "And I know you haven't forgotten our discussion, about you stalking strangers. Etiquette, remember?"

Onuma could not possibly restrain himself a moment longer. "You've been teaching a fox social etiquette?" It took a positively heroic effort, not to laugh at the scowl that earned him.

"I've been trying to teach him things that will keep him from harm. Do you have a problem with that?"

Onuma knew the last thing he needed, was to get into a stupid fight over a lunatic's eccentricities. "Nope," he shook his head. "Not in the slightest. So I take it this is the fellow you were looking for?"

"I thought he'd either come find you, or else hide. He always knows when people are around." The man looked to the fox again, and all at once, his testiness drained off. "At least I can see you're all right."

Looking back up at Onuma, he added, "I apologize for my rudeness. It was generous of you to stop and express your concern, earlier. If there's anything you may need assistance with now, I'd like to make up for the trouble."

And hell if the man didn't look and sound absolutely sane, just then. Well, he looked dead tired and soaked in melting snow, and talked like a gentleman scholar. Though alternatively, for all Onuma knew, he could be a first-rate actor and the worst sort of scoundrel; just as apt to try and kill Onuma the moment his back was turned.

Though that did raise some question of the fox.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind if I ask," he said to the man. "But how did you come to train this clever fellow, here?"

The man snorted, in what sounded for all the world like genuine surprise, and a touch of dark amusement. "Train? Forgive me, but you don't know Yasashii. He only learns the things it interests him to know."

The fox snorted in return, at that comment, and the man gave him wry, startlingly fond look in return. "What? You know it's true. You were more than happy to learn to sleep in a bed, and share food with me, but heaven forbid you should follow the path we agree on, or keep away from strangers who might decide you'd make a handsome purse."

At which point the fox slanted a doubtful eye up at Onuma, who found himself drawn into this absurd conversation despite himself. "I assure you, I had no designs at all in that direction. Your pretty hide is quite safe where it is, and I wish you a long healthy life in it. I have but one simple desire, and that's to stock up on firewood before the storm."

"Oh. Firewood?" the man put in. "I was just gathering some, when I lost him. We'd....well, I was expecting we'd be in a cave for a few days. But I have a few bundles, if that might be of help to you?"

Onuma was about to begin the delicate process of polite refusal, on grounds that this would leave the man (and his fox, presumably) having to gather wood all over again for themselves, when the thought struck him--oddly punctuated by the fox's sudden sharp yip--that he could just as easily invite them both to hole up with him.

But the noise from the fox threw him off, and then the man shook his head and told the fox, "We can't impose on people like that, just because you're curious about them."

The fox rose on his four white feet and barked again, rather more insistently. At which the man crossed his arms over his chest, clearly ready to stand his ground on the matter. "We will discuss this at home, as much as you wish. And I'm truly sorry if it doesn't make sense to you now, you know I am. But Yasashii, we mustn't intrude on someone's home."

The fox's answering huff was the exact noise of a man throwing up his hands in frustration, and gods preserve him, but Onuma was utterly charmed by this pair. He hadn't seen this much entertainment in months; not since that week last summer, taking afternoon tea with that crowd of fishermen's wives. Though frankly, this man and his fox were more comely than the lot of them.

"I....really shouldn't get in the middle of this," he chuckled. "Heaven knows I've regretted it before. But if the two of you were amenable, I would be pleased to invite you on board, to wait out the weather with me. It may not be as roomy as your cave, granted. But it will be dry, and warm. And cooking both our dinners on one fire is certainly more efficient than us both keeping separate fires."

For just a second, the man gave him a haggard, harried sort of look, before abruptly tightening all the seams on his composure, through what could only be sheer willpower. "That is. An extraordinarily gracious offer. But we couldn't think of imposing on you."

The tone was formal, and perfectly even, but Onuma hadn't missed that little glimpse a second before. Whatever the stranger had been up to earlier, he was done in now. Exhausted, and going by the rigidness of his shoulders, and the greyish tinge to his lips, growing dangerously cold. Of course he would be, in those wet clothes, wet feet, wandering about the woods bare-headed.

Onuma sighed, and briefly squeezed the bridge of his nose, beneath his glasses. It was always the hopeless cases that got to him worst. 

"Okay. Let's try this. Let's assume I've begged the favor of your company three times, and you, according to correct gentlemanly custom, have graciously demurred. Now please, forgive me for insisting that you come out of the cold, and allow me to find you something dry, and make us some tea, before I have to watch you freeze to death before my eyes? I hate watching people suffer to no purpose, and somehow I don't imagine your friend here is that keen on the idea, either."

In a not terribly surprising move, it was the fox who decided the matter, whirling about and bounding past Onuma, and then leaping from the bank, to the deck of the boat. Onuma himself jumped a bit at the sudden motion, but then glancing back to see the fox, so clearly waiting on the two stubborn humans to fall in line, fell out laughing.

"Look," he told the man across the clearing. "Your friend's made up his mind. Problem solved."

With an expression both embarrassed and despairing, the man finally surrendered. "I'll get the firewood," he sighed. "And I have dry clothing, it's--." He broke off, swaying precipitously on his feet, and Onuma jumped into motion, jogging the few strides across the clearing, to catch the man's elbow before he collapsed.

"Sorry, m'alright," the stranger muttered, blinking to clear the glassy haze from his eyes.  
"Yes, I'm sure you're just fine as a coat of lacquer," Onuma humored him. "But what do you say we go sit down for a spell, just to get our bearings."

"The firewood," the man mentioned. He turned and tilted back toward the pines, nearly toppling them both. "It's....um. That way. And my pack. I'll just, one second--."

"Hey, here's a thought." Onuma got the man's arm over his shoulders, and an arm around his back, in the tried-and-true method of steering drunks and the mildly concussed. "I bet if I backtrack your footprints, I'll turn up your wood, and your pack. And you--," trying to get them aimed back for the bank, "--can take a nice comfy seat on my boat, and grade me on form."

"I shouldn't," the man complained, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly against Onuma's ribcage. "Shouldn't let you. Don't even know you."

"Oh, that's easily sorted. Hullo, good morning, I'm Onuma and I'm a lake pilot. And you're obviously a madman with a fox, and--," briefly pressing his palm to the back of the stranger's chilled, clammy neck. "Ah look, moderately severe hypothermia, just as I thought."

The man tried to shudder away from Onuma's hand, drawing up his shoulders. "Morinozuka," he muttered.  
"That's quite a respectable-sounding name," said Onuma, shuffling slowly toward the bank. "It suits you."

Morinozuka made a dismissive noise, then whatever he was going to say next got lost in a hard, full-body shudder.

"Yeah, y'know what? Don't try to talk right now. Just focus on walking," Onuma advised. To his relief, Morinozuka complied, turning his wavering attention to their lumbering progress across the patches of snow and limp dead grass. In due course, they reached the bank, and after some precarious fumbling (during which Onuma incidentally learned that Morinozuka was every bit as fit as he'd looked from a distance), made it down on deck, and were finally able to stumble through the cabin door.

He got Morinozuka settled on some cushions near the small hearth, stirred up the coals left from breakfast, and laid on more wood (noting that the fox, having slipped discreetly in behind them, was now sniffing about the walls and corners of the cabin). Once the fire was going, he excused himself down to the hold for a moment, grabbing an armload of his bedding, the one clean set of trousers and shirt he wasn't wearing, and the bottle of brandy from his emergency kit.

"First things first," he announced to Morinozuka, who was thankfully still awake. "Let's get a healthy dose of this in you," grabbing a teacup and filling it with brandy. "Then we'll see about getting you warmed up."

"Forgive me," Morinozuka got out. "But I d-don't....normally take strong drink. Not with s-strangers. Sorry."  
"And normally I wouldn't press it," Onuma assured him. "But the next task on the agenda, is to strip off those wet clothes, before they kill you. Still want to turn this down?"

Morinozuka leveled a baleful eye at the teacup, then gave a minute headshake and reached for it. "Thank you." He tossed back the drink in one go, and then screwed his eyes tightly shut and shuddered for a bit.

"Yeah, sorry, I only use this stuff for serious cases. Thawing folks out and bonesetting, mostly."

"Bonesetting," Morinozuka declared on a gasp, blinking his watering eyes. "You could take off a limb with that. Wouldn't need a knife."

In the midst of his honest hearty laughter, Onuma decided he could probably like this fellow.

 

Luckily for them both, Morinozuka had somehow managed to escape frostbite on his hands and feet. With that established, Onuma fussed about getting tea and some rice porridge heated up, giving Morinozuka a bit of privacy to get out of his clothes, and into Onuma's trousers and shirt, and blankets. Once the man was dressed, and looked likely to stay conscious a bit longer, Onuma decided he'd best hurry out and fetch Morinozuka's firewood and personal effects, while the getting was good.

Tracing Morinozuka's footprints in the snow did indeed lead him to the firewood; three big bundles of branches, wound about in heavy twine, with twisted handles for carrying. Not far from the firewood, he found what could only be Morinozuka's traveling pack, stashed beneath the low branches of a cypress, so heavily snow-laden they nearly brushed the ground. The pack was a sturdy woven basket, bound tightly in oilcloth to keep it waterproof. Seeing that it was intact, Onuma didn't bother to inspect it further, and simply got his arms in the two straps and hoisted it on his back.

And yes. Morinozuka must be in exceptional shape, if he'd been hauling this thing up and down the wooded hills, through the snow. Onuma was half-tempted to shuck it back off, and make sure there wasn't a spare body stashed inside. But he had the weight well-balanced, and wasn't exactly suffering an overabundance of spare time, so instead, he scooped up the firewood bundles (a bit trickier, getting those balanced out) and made his teetering, ponderous way back to the boat.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he returned to the clearing, he knew he'd underestimated the storm's progress. The frontal winds were battering at the treetops, and the sleet was coming on in scattered, peppering bursts. The frozen slush made a mess of his glasses, but without a free hand all Onuma could do was squint over the tops of the frames, and keep shuffling in the general direction of the bank.

The dead grass and soggy earth at the bank were already perilously slick, and Onuma had to toss everything down to the deck, before cautiously climbing down himself--going mostly by feel at this point, and he still bruised his shin in the process. Once he got all the goods shifted inside the door, the cove had gone to whiteout with mixed ice and snow, and he had to brave a hard pelting of it for several fumbling minutes, to get the canvas sheet hung over the outside of the door, to prevent it from icing over and trapping everyone inside.

Once all this was accomplished, he all but crawled over by the fire to catch his breath, feeling nearly as done in as Morinozuka. His trousers were soaked at the knees, his hands were mostly numb, and the sleet and snow melting in his hair was now trickling down the back of his neck. He was shivering hard, and had to claw the wet wrappings off his hands with stiff fingers and his teeth, so he could warm his bare hands over the fire.

He had about forgotten Morinozuka, having seen the man hunched up in blankets and dozing against the wall (the fox curled up in his lap, interestingly) when he'd come in, but then Morinozuka cleared his throat.  
"My pack."

"Yeah, don't worry, it's just over there," Onuma jerked his chin toward the other end of the cabin, where the pack and bundled branches were dripping on the floor.  
Morinozuka frowned in an apparent effort to focus, and blinked dozily at him. "There's dry clothing. And food. You're welcome to both."

"That's very kind, but I think we're all right for provisions." Onuma had no intention of pawing through the man's basket of goods, while he was laid up. Unless Morinozuka specifically requested him to fetch something out, it would be distasteful. "Got plenty of rice porridge cooking up, with some shredded mackerel and winter vegetables to go in. That sound all right?"

"Sounds delicious," Morinozuka said dutifully, "but I don't want to deplete your stores. We brought things to trade at market, let me share them."

Of course it was Onuma's weak spot, that he could never turn down a prospective trade, without at least getting an eye on the prospect first. "Tell you what, once you're feeling livelier, you can go through your pack and see what you might like to offer. I'm plenty well-stocked, so it's not as though sharing is any hardship."

"I have dandelion wine," mentioned Morinozuka. "Bottled it this summer."  
"Dandelion wine?" Onuma pretty well forgot about his chilled, bedraggled state, right there. "My word, I haven't had that in....well, ages. Never met anyone in these parts who knew how to make it. What were you interested in trading for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I hadn't made it in ages," shrugged Morinozuka. "It's really more of a trial batch. Didn't turn out badly, I suppose. Thought I'd try and trade for the usual staples. Rice. Preserved goods. Some mending thread and some writing ink would be useful."

Onuma considered his own stores. "If you weren't averse to doing business with a stranger, I bet I could save you that market trip. I generally do a bit of shipping and trading between towns, myself, and I happen to have all those items, on board. Would ink sticks instead of bottled ink be acceptable?"

"I'd prefer ink sticks," Morinozuka said, pausing partway through to stifle a yawn. "Easier to transport and store. Would you really be interested in trade?"

Onuma smiled, slightly abashed. "Look at me, you mention dandelion wine, and I completely forget my manners. Of course I'm always interested in trade, but we should have some food and tea, and take a rest. There'll be plenty of time to talk about our goods, later."

"Yes, of course. Would you object, if I share with Yasashii?"  
"Not at all, of course your friend should eat too. I certainly have bowls and dishes to spare. Does he really take to the sort of food we eat?" Onuma asked, curious.

"He prefers it." Morinozuka turned the tiniest ghost of a smile, down at the fox in his lap, who'd kept its eyes closed, but had been flicking an ear on occasion, throughout their talk. "He's especially fond of pears and figs, and silver needle tea."

"Well, I have to compliment his refined tastes," chuckled Onuma, at that moment pouring out a much more sedate brown rice brew, to go with their porridge.

"It wasn't easy to explain that we can't always have the finest tea in the region," Morinozuka agreed, with a wry grin. "I'm not sure the person who gave it to us even knew what they were offering."

It was really quite curious, Onuma would later reflect, how naturally the conversation carried on from there. As the storm moaned and battered at the world outside, the two men who had only encountered each other hours before by pure accident, talked in a gradual, comfortable way, through a leisurely meal and tea. Onuma had always been confident in his ability to quickly get on with most civilized strangers; in fact, he consistently relied on it. But in nearly all cases, it was primarily an amiable act on his part, a necessary part of maintaining his connections and livelihood. He was happy to play the role in town for a day or so, and with the odd temporary passenger, but all the while in the back of his mind, he was always looking forward to being back out on the water, on his own again.

Granted, this particular guest and his companion both, were more subdued than most. Nevertheless, Onuma somehow managed to completely lose all track of time, simply chatting with Morinozuka. They got through their meals, and more than one pot of tea (which the fox did indeed drink, and appear to enjoy just fine, from a spare bowl once it had cooled down some), whilst discussing all manner of nothing in particular. Varieties of tea, spices they liked in pickled vegetables, methods of waterproofing canvas (Onuma had mentioned his approval of Morinozuka's oilcloth around his basket), types of local wood to use for smoked fish, and types of wood that were good for carving (for Morinozuka evidently was a whittler).

In fact, Onuma became so comfortably engrossed in the flow of their talk, that he quite overlooked his guest's growing fatigue, until Morinozuka broke off mid-sentence and buried a jaw-cracking yawn behind his hand.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, I should've left you alone to rest ages ago," he said, only just realizing that the fire had at some point burnt down to embers, and he was now thoroughly warmed and dried out from his earlier run-in with the weather.

Morinozuka tried to mutter some protest, which utterly failed to convince, and Onuma waved him off and moved to build up the fire again. "No, really, now that you've safely thawed out, you should sleep. I believe I'll head below and get a nap myself. This weather like it is, might as well hibernate a bit. Let me get you a cushion to rest your head on."

"Really....not necessary. You've done too much already."  
Onuma couldn't help a grin; Morinozuka was no less attractive, for all he was practically mumbling in his sleep. In fact, there was something sort of endearing about it. "Are you quite sure? I have bedding to spare"

"Was going to sleep in a cave. Camped in dead trees before. This is much better. Perfect."  
"Well, when you put it that way." Onuma got up anyway and headed for the cupboard where he stored guest provisions, digging out an extra quilt and a couple of cushions and setting them in the man's reach. "Just in case you change your mind, these will be right here."

"Hmm." It was the sound of a man already over the threshold of unconsciousness, but before Onuma could get up and quietly depart, Morinozuka made that deep rumbling sound again, and blinked open dark eyes that were--for just a moment--clear and solemn, and absolutely arresting.

So Onuma didn't move. For a few seconds, he wasn't sure he breathed.  
"Thank you, Onuma-san. I owe you a great debt, for your aid. We wouldn't have made that cave in time."

There was a voice in the back of Onuma's head, nagging him to say something now, but to do that he had to breathe, and stop staring into the man's eyes like he could fall inside and drown. He'd first taken their color for black, or darkest brown, but this close up they were something else. A speck of ink powder clouding a spoonful of water, or the deep slate gray of the lake at first light, just before the sun brought color to the world. Onuma had spent hours watching the water when it was that color. He thought maybe he could spend hours just watching this color too.

He tried clearing his throat, to kick-start the breathing. Unfortunately his coherence was slower to catch up. "I--well. Of course. That is, I'm very glad I could talk you into coming here. I have a feeling we'd both be worse off, if we hadn't run across each other today."

"I will find a way to repay you," Morinozuka insisted quietly. He shifted his gaze down to the fox, curled half on its side, and now regarding the two men with one eye cracked open, in a look of lazy satisfaction.

"We both will," Morinozuka added, and almost inaudibly the fox sighed, as if in agreement.

Half-kneeling there, caught between the warmth of the fire and the Morinozuka's quiet intensity, Onuma was struck with a notion so odd and unprecedented, that he didn't have the courage to speak it aloud. But he felt, with such strength in that moment, that if he count this madman with a fox as a true friend, that would be all the repayment he could wish.


End file.
